Our most inexhaustible source of magic
by Lunamionny
Summary: "Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it." - Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. A collection of Harry Potter drabbles, all under 1000 words and including all manor of pairings and predicaments. A drabble a chapter; pairings are in brackets in the chapter title.
1. Chapter 1

**Out most inexhaustible source of magic**

"Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it." - Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

A collection of Harry Potter drabbles, all under 1000 words and including all manor of pairings and predicaments. A drabble a chapter; pairings are in brackets in the chapter title.

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**1\. Boggarts and Balls-ups**

Summary: When Hermione takes Draco home to her parents' house for her birthday, she's a little apprehensive. It's the first time he'll meet them, as well as his first time in a Muggle home. What could possibly go wrong?

A/N: Written for NuclearNik's birthday 2019. Happy birthday Niki!  
Thank you to Frumpologist for giving this a little beta/alpha-ing love.

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Hermione smiled nervously at her mother and settled her mug of tea tentatively down on the coffee table. She had brought Draco to her parents' home to stay for a few days over her birthday and, despite herself, she had been feeling apprehensive about the visit. It was the first time her parents would meet Draco since they'd started going out five months earlier and, as far as Hermione was aware, the first time Draco had been to a Muggle home.

Hermione and Draco had arrived at the Granger household an hour or so earlier and had settled in the living room for a cup of tea with Helen, Hermione's mother. A few moments ago - __quite __a few moment ago - Draco had excused himself to use the bathroom, and Hermione had started to wonder where her boyfriend might have got to.

Suddenly, a loud bang and an even louder crash came from the direction of the kitchen.

Hermione's heart stuttered, and she exchanged a look of bewilderment with her mother as both women abruptly rose from their seats. They moved instinctively towards the door to investigate, but Draco appeared in its frame, wand in his hand. His clothes were dripping with water and his hair was decorated with what looked like an array of soap suds.

Despite his appearance, he looked typically self-assured, although Hermione recognised a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

"What's happened?" Hermione demanded.

"Erm, nothing to worry about. It was - you had a Boggart, Mrs Granger, in one of your kitchen cupboards. But I got rid of it!" Draco declared triumphantly.

"A bogged what?" Helen queried tentatively.

"A Bogg__art __," Draco repeated definitely. "In that white cupboard with the round, transparent window. The whole thing was shaking and vibrating and making an __increasingly __awful racket. Seemed like a very __agitated __Boggart. Although – " Draco shifted uncomfortably and looked questioningly at his wand. "I __thought __I'd performed an expert Riddikulus charm, but an odd thing seemed to have happened as a result – all the clothes you kept in the cupboard burst out of it and I seemed to cast an Aguamenti at the same time – a gush of water shot out – I got things a bit wet..."

"The cupboard with the round, transparent window?" Hermione repeated, trying to contain her dismay as she realised what Draco had done.

"Yes?" Draco answered weakly.

"You mean the __washing machine __?" Hermione asked, incredulous.

"The what-ing machine?" Draco's lips turned down, and Hermione knew that was a sign he had realised he had ballsed-up.

"Oh, Draco," Hermione sighed and hurried past him to the kitchen, Helen in tow.

The washing machine's door had burst from its hinges and soapy water was seeping across the floor of the kitchen, pooling around sodden items of clothes, including, Hermione noted with embarrassment, her mother's rather __adult __lingerie.

Hermione hastily explained to her mother about Boggarts, whilst also trying to explain to Draco about washing machines – that they often shuddered and made a 'racket' during cycles – as the latter attempted to undo the destruction he'd wrought. Draco had been hoovering up the water with his wand, but, along with the water, the pull of the magic seemed to have sucked up a rather lacy pair of Helen's knickers, which were dangling precariously from the end of his wand. Hermione blushed as Draco's eyes widened in apparent horror at the sight of the underwear, before he quickly shook his wand and the knickers fell to the floor.

"Sorry," he mumbled sheepishly.

Helen's smile had increasingly broadened as she'd listened to Hermione's explanation and observed Draco's attempt to undo the damage he'd caused, and she let out a delighted chuckle.

"Oh, well, the bloody thing was on its last legs anyway. Just gives me an excellent excuse to get a new one! Now, don't worry about that." She waved her hand dismissively at Draco's continued attempt to clean up, and smiled fondly at him. "I appreciate you trying to get rid of a Bogie if you thought there was one here, they sound like nasty things...why don't you go upstairs and get into some dry clothes, I'll sort this out and then we can finish our tea?"

Hermione's shoulders sagged in relief. The worst of the crisis was over. As she led Draco up the stairs to the bedroom they'd be sleeping in, she took his hand and gave him a short but tender kiss on the lips.

"See," she said. "You had nothing to worry about - I told you she'd like you."

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A/N: Your thoughts and reviews are cherished and treasured.


	2. Christmas & Climaxes (HermioneCharlie)

**2\. Christmas and Climaxes (Hermione/Charlie)**

Summary: In the early hours of Christmas Eve, Charlie walks in on Hermione contemplating the rather 'adult' present she'd been given as her Secret Santa gift...

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Hermione awoke in the early hours of Christmas Eve, uncomfortable and restless. She had willingly agreed to taking the sofa-bed in the cottage her friends had hired, letting the couples have the double bedrooms upstairs. Being the only single person, it made sense. Well, the only single person until Charlie had turned up late the previous evening, a last minute guest, and had gallantly and gracefully taken the armchair in the kitchen as his bed.

Hermione tossed and turned futilely, then, giving up on sleep, she scrabbled in her bag by the bed for the Secret Santa present Ginny had given her. Well, she had assumed it had been Ginny, from the wide grin and wicked glint in the girl's eyes when Hermione had opened it. And the way the redhead had gleefully exclaimed "It's a __sex toy! __" before Hermione had even known what she was looking at.

She held the toy up, examining it in the beams from the Christmas tree fairy lights. It was a __Climax 2020 __, apparently, a new model. She had no intention of using it, of course, at least not __now __–

A sudden knock on the door startled Hermione. She hastily hid the toy under the covers as Charlie entered the room. He was wearing nothing but a pair of dragon-patterned pyjamas bottoms and she found her eyes gliding over the muscular contours of his chest and hard edges of his biceps.

"Sorry Hermione, couldn't sleep. Not gonna lie, that chair is not the comfiest...thought I'd grab some cushions."

"Oh." Hermione felt a rush of guilt about their differing sleeping arrangement. "Do you want to..." and before she knew what she was doing, she'd gestured for Charlie to get into bed with her.

He grinned broadly. "Great! Ta!"

As he shuffled around next to her, getting comfortable, Hermione became acutely aware of the heat of his body, and the smoky scent of his hair. Her heart started stuttering and, alarmed by her own reaction, she slid slightly away from him. In doing so, she jogged the __Climax 2020 __off the bed and it clattered loudly to the floor.

"What was that?" Charlie asked, and abruptly leaned over Hermione, peering at the floor.

His body was half-splayed over her and all her nerves started to pulse fervently at the feel of his chest pressed against hers. Once he'd spotted her present, Charlie looked back at her, his lips curling into a smile. "Have you been playing with your new toy, Hermione?"

Wet heat rushed between Hermione's legs at his knowing words and sultry tone.

"What? No, I – I was just looking at it. I've never had one before..." Her objections faltered. She was aware her cheeks were burning and her chest was rising and falling rapidly. She wished he'd stop lying all over her. But at the same time, she hoped he'd never move again.

Charlie's smile slowly faded, his intense eyes flicking over her face as if looking for something. Hermione assumed he'd found whatever it was, because then he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. As she kissed him back, she felt his cock harden against her thigh, the feel of it making her moan quietly into his mouth.

After sometime, he pulled back from the kiss, his eyebrows raised. "Never?" he murmured between gentle bites on her neck. Hermione ran her hands hungrily over his chest and back, wanting to feel every bare inch of him.

"No...I just...do it myself."

"Hmm...will you show me how, Hermione?"

In response, she took Charlie's hand and moved it down her body. Between her moans and whimpers , he allowed her to guide him, though he clearly didn't need her direction; his delightfully rough fingers touched her with expert speed and pressure .

"Like this?" he asked softly, and Hermione nodded eagerly, raising her hips to feel him deeper inside her. "Fuck, you're so wet...do you think we should use the present I gave you too?"

Her mind hazy from lust, Hermione was confused. "What present?" Then realisation dawned. " __You __gave me the __Climax 2020 __? I thought it was Ginny."

Charlie chuckled, his fingers moving from circling her clit to dipping inside her again, pumping vigorously, causing the heat of her body to reach a fever pitch. "No. Me. I like to imagine you using it...that it could be a little bit of me fucking you...which is something I've thought about a lot, Hermione..."

She came then, moaning and gasping into the crook of his shoulder in an attempt to muffle the sounds.

It was only later that she was able to properly make sense of his words, and confess to him that she'd often imagined the same thing too.

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A/N: Thanks to the amazing Frumpologist for her alpha and beta-ing love with this.

Your thougths and reviews are charished and treasured.


	3. Pursuit (Theo&Narcissa)

**3\. Pursuit**

Summary: Narcissa tried to ignore Theodore Nott's persistent pursuit of her. The age difference was one of many reasons why it would have been wrong to reciprocate his affections. But Theodore Nott is used to getting what he wants...

Notes: Written for The Fairest of the Rare's '1000 member drabble' challenge. I was given the prompt theme 'pursuit'.  
Warning: a little age-difference naughtiness ;)

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Narcissa wasn't sure when her son's best friend had started pursuing her. Possibly sometime around his seventeenth birthday; she remembered the way he had looked at her as they'd toasted his coming-of-age. She had dismissed it of course - a schoolboy infatuation - age was one of the many reasons why it would have been wrong to reciprocate it. But two years after the war, when Theo had been orphaned and she divorced, and the boy had practically started living at Malfoy Manor, a welcome and willing guest of Draco's, she'd found it harder to ignore.

He became more brazen, more arrogant in his pursuit of her. Like the time she walked into his bedroom, thinking he was out, and Theo was stood with only a towel wrapped low around his waist, hair ruffled from the shower he'd just had. She took in his lean muscles and taut stomach, and a bolt of arousal had shot through her, right to her core. But years of good breeding meant she was adept at not letting this show.

She watched as Theo deliberately released the towel and it dropped to the floor, revealing a hardening cock springing up between his legs.

"Oops," he deadpanned, his eyes staying locked on hers, his face expressionless except for a coy smile hinting at the edges of his lips.

Despite the growing wet heat between her legs, Narcissa employed a cold expression and let her gaze slowly wander up and down his body.

"I've seen better," she said indifferently before sweeping from the room.

She hadn't actually 'seen better'. But she thought the comment might dampen his enthusiastic pursuit of her.

It didn't.

A few weeks later, Theo nonchalantly entered her bedroom as she was getting ready for a gala event.

"Theodore, you can't come barging in here. This is my -"

"I love it when you call me Theo__dore__, Narcissa," he interrupted, mischievous grin on his beautiful face. "Always makes my cock twitch."

"Theodore -" she began again.

"Oh! There it goes again." Both of their eyes flickered to his crotch.

Narcissa turned her back to Theo and, to hide the blush that had warmed her cheeks, pretended to search for something on her shelf.

But suddenly he was behind her - close - so close she could feel the heat of him.

"What do you want Theo?" she asked without turning around. "What are you pursuing with this-"

"I want you. I thought that was obvious." His voice was low and thick, his breath warm on her neck. "And I'm used to getting what I want."

She felt his lips press down on her shoulder, felt the delicious scratch of his stubble on her skin, felt his hands clasp around her waist as he pushed her hips back and pressed his hardness against her.

She let out an involuntary whimper. The sound was an admission. A surrender.

The pursuit - the chase - was over. And it felt so good to have been caught.

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Your thoughts and reviews are cherished and treasured.


	4. Pride (Katie B & Justin F-F)

**4\. Pride**

Summary: He'd hated himself. For the whole six months that she was under the darkness of that curse, the guilt and self loathing had eaten away at him. And he vowed to never again let his pride blind him to the goodness of her.

Notes: A short little drabble-ie thing I wrote for 'Pair Roulette' on the Fairest of the Rare FB group.

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He should have been with her.

They had planned to go to Madam Pudifoot's, then he'd thought he might have suggested a walk - maybe up to the Shrieking Shack, and back to the castle via one of the more secluded paths. He'd fantasised about wrapping his arm around her, under the guise of protecting her from the cold, and wiping the snowflakes from her cheeks as a pretext to leaning in to kiss her...

But instead, his privileged-Eton-listed-wanker self - the part of him he'd tried to squash away and discard since starting at Hogwarts - had crawled out the woodwork of his personality, his insecurity had manifested in jealousy and arrogance and they'd gotten into a horrible, sullied argument.

He'd never thought he'd been good enough for her, you see. Her being a year older, a respected Chaser, popular, pretty, brave and gregarious, epitomising all that was admired and envied about Gryffindor House. And yes, her being a pureblood to his Muggle-born status. And although he knew she abhorred pureblood-elitism, he couldn't help but be aware of that difference too, especially after Harry Potter had brought Cedric Diggory's bruised and broken body back from that graveyard, shouting about You-Know-Who's return, and all that had happened since.

Being one of the elite in the Muggle world, it had been hard to be one of the subjugated in the magical one.

But, despite all that, she had seemed to want him. They had danced around each other during their evenings play-fighting in the Room of Requirement during the days of Dumbledore's Army. He had openly cheered her on at Quidditch matches and she had come to him for help with her Muggle Studies essay. And things had grown - awkward kisses turned to passionate and prolonged ones, and then they'd finally lain together in that disused broom shed, as she had touched and kissed and explored his body, and she had let him do the same to her.

But occasionally, his insecurity had reared its ugly head, and that morning before their outing to Hogsmeade in his sixth year, he'd accused her of flirting with Oliver Wood.

"Bet you love to accidentally-on-purpose collide your body into his at Quiddtich practice...do you even __have__ separate changing rooms?" His words had been like acid - bitter and corrosive.

"Don't be fucking ridiculous Justin! Are we really __doing__ this?!" she'd exclaimed, incredulous, before turning her back and storming away from him across the snow.

He hadn't gone after her - he'd let her go in to Hogsmeade without him, with Leanne, to end up imperiused in the Three Broomsticks and not long after, unconscious, her soul torn and tainted by the dark curse of a necklace.

But not dead. Thank God not dead.

He'd hated himself. For the whole six months that she was under the darkness of that curse, the guilt and self loathing had eaten away at him. And he vowed to never again let his pride blind him to the goodness of her.

He was there when she'd woken up of course. He'd demanded that Dumbledore let him know immediately, and that he be able to apparate down to St Mungo's as soon as possible. He'd hurried to her bedside, noting how pale her cheeks were, how weak her body looked. He'd clasped her hand in both of his and she'd blinked at him as if seeing him for the first time.

"I dreamt of you," she'd said. Her voice was thick and hoarse. "You were in my dreams."

"I'm here now. In our reality," he'd replied, leaning down and kissing her tenderly on the forehead. "And I'll stay with you this time."

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A/N: Your thoughts and reviews are cherished and treasured.


	5. Stoned (Pansy & Daphne)

**5\. Stoned (Pansy/Daphne)**

Written for a prompt on the Fairest of the rare FB group. Prompt: 'See the line where the sky meets the sea? It calls to me.'

Summary: As a heatwave hits the UK, the Slytherins decide to head to the beach, stocked with beer and a little bit of weed...

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"I need to pee," Pansy declared determinedly, rising from her towel, pressing her legs together and jiggling, much like a toddler might do if they were trying to keep from wetting themselves. "Where're the nearest toilets, Daph?" Pansy asked, her eyes sweeping the beach front.

A heat wave had hit the UK and so the two girls, along with Draco, Blaise and Theo, had decided to come to the beach for the day. And to...well, drink beer and get a little stoned.

"Back there," Daphne replied, gesturing to some low concrete buildings a hundred or so metres away. "But they're really skanky and don't have any toilet paper. Go in the sea."

"The sea?" Pansy stood, hands on hips, frowning at the suggestion.

From the angle she was sitting, Daphne couldn't help but admire how wonderful Pansy's tanned body looked in her excellently-fitted bikini.

"Yeah, the sea," Blaise chipped in, taking the joint from Draco.

"I don't think if I can piss in the sea, it's rather..._uncouth_."

"Oh, Pans, where do you think it ends up anyway?" Theo remarked. His voice was slow and thick, but then, they were on their third spliff.

"Paaaansy, go wee in the sea. It'll be fine," Draco encouraged, drawing out the 'a' of her name teasingly.

"Paaaansy," Blaise repeated Draco's intonation, which Daphne found rather hilarious and couldn't help giggling at. Because everything was rather hilarious right then.

"Paaaansy," Theo joined in, and then all of them were jeering unison:

"Paaaaaaannnssyy!"

"Okay, okay, I'll go piss in the fucking sea!" Pansy retorted before turning and making her way to the seashore, her perfect arse wiggling beautifully as she did so.

"Prissy Pansy's pissing in the sea!" Draco called after her and they all guffawed because, really, it was pretty funny.

Pansy stuck up her middle finger at the group but didn't turn around or halt her saunter to the water.

After Daphne took her next toke, she gazed out at the sea, at the wide expanse of it, glistening and sparkling from the sun's rays, and especially at how the edge of the sea seemed to blend in with the sky. It was really rather mesmerising; she couldn't stop looking at it. She knew there was a word for it - that place where the sea met the sky - why couldn't she remember it? Because she was stoned out her bloody mind, that was why, she thought, sniggering at how addled her own mind was.

Nevertheless, as Pansy returned and settled herself down next to her, Daphne tried to put her thoughts into words. "See the line where the sky meets the sea? It...calls to me," was the best she could manage.

"The _horizon_, Daphne," Pansy said, managing to sound disparaging and affectionate at the same time. "The line where the sky meets the sea, it's called the _horizon_."

"Yes! Yes, that's it!" Daphne cried enthusiastically, putting her arm around her girlfriend's shoulder and pulling to her. "You're so good with _The Words_, Pans!"

"And you're so very stoned, precious," Pansy said fondly as she smiled in amusement and pressed her lips onto Daphne's in a delicate, tender kiss.

And Daphne didn't think it was just the THC that was making her feel the most content she'd felt in her life: sun, sea, friends and Pans - what more could she ask for?


End file.
